


Lips Of An Angel

by stonerskittles



Series: Tumblr Drabbles 2k15 [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerskittles/pseuds/stonerskittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is half watching CSI: New York, and half debating on which toy he’s going to use tonight when Peter stumbles through the door, pants ripped and eyes dazed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips Of An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for slight dub/con because Peter is under the influence of a spell, but as soon as the Sheriff realises, he doesn’t touch Peter in a sexual way.

John sighs contently, curled up on the couch with the remote in one hand and a cup of Nana Stilinski’s Special hot chocolate (which is really just a regular hot chocolate with a tablespoon of vanilla followed by a shot of whiskey) in the other. 

Stiles and Malia are spending the night at Lydia’s with Scott, his next shift isn’t until Monday and Beacon Hills has been monster free for a little over a week. 

He’s relaxed, as much as he can these days, getting more so with each minute that passes by. 

John is half watching  _CSI: New York_ , and half debating on which toy he’s going to use tonight when Peter stumbles through the door, pants ripped and eyes dazed. 

“John,” the wolf says, in a strange combination of a growl and a moan, and before John can react, launches himself into his lap. 

“What,” John manages before Peter crashes their lips together in a poor excuse of a kiss.

But then John cups the back of Peter’s neck firmly, fully intending to pull the other man away, and Peter… melts. He tilts his head a little to the left, lips letting up some of their force and it’s good. It’s nice, and John hasn’t been kissed in a very long time. 

However, it isn’t long until Peter starts moving, rolling his hips in fluid motions on his cock and through the arousal, John realises that something isn’t right. 

“Peter,” he tries. Nothing. Peter doesn’t respond until John touches him, clutches at his waist in an attempt to still the wolf. 

Now that he has Peter’s attention, John looks into his eyes and asks slowly and precisely: “What happened?” 

Peter shakes his head, looking dazed. “Witch. Said - she said,” 

Then he ducks his head to suck a bruise into his neck. 

“Peter,” John croaks, getting a hand around Peter’s neck again, because that worked last time. “What did she say?”

“I can’t remember,” Peter whines. “Want you.” 

Okay. 

John takes a deep breath and thinks. Obviously the witch has cursed him with something, some sort of sex spell. 

“Peter,” John coos, when he thinks he has a plan. “Do you want to take this upstairs?” 

Peter nods against his collarbone, blunt teeth gnawing at the flesh to make him hiss. 

“Follow me.” 

It takes a while for them to move, and when they do Peter insists on touching  _some_ part of him, so he holds Peter’s hand all the way. 

When they’re in his bedroom, and Peter is on his bed, lying on his back with his legs bent and spayed open, looking at him with glassy blue eyes. It makes his dick twitch, seeing the wolf like this, vulnerable and his for the taking, but without full consent, John isn’t going to touch him. 

Maybe he can tire the wolf out. Make him come without touching him  until he falls asleep and hope that the spell wears off by the morning. 

“Touch yourself,” he demands from his place at the end of the bed. 

Peter obeys instantly, fingers dipping beneath his pants to pull them down, but John stops him. 

“Over your pants,” John clarifies, and lets himself stroke Peter’s ankle lightly. “Touch yourself. Lightly, slowly.”

Hesitantly, Peter lets his hand fall lower, cupping his bulge and rubbing at his cock. The wolf moans, a low sound in the back of his throat and tightens his hand just so. 

“That’s it,” John praises, his own cock straining against his sweats. “Make yourself feel good.” 

Peter squirms. “M’hot. Too hot.” 

“You can take off your shirt,” he decides, and Peter practically rips the v-neck off. His nipples are hard, tight little pebbles that John is aching to get his mouth on, suck them into his mouth, maybe try and make Peter come just from that. 

John sounds a little delirious himself when he orders Peter to pinch his nipples. His eyes are focused on how Peter works himself, rolling the nubs between his fingers, squeezing them like he’s trying to get milk out of them. 

“You can take your pants off now,” John says when Peter starts mewling, hips twitching in the air and his head keeps lolling from side to side. 

In his eagerness, Peter ends up taking his boxers down as well, cock bobbing before springing up and laying against his stomach. The tip is almost purple, sticky with pre-come. It isn’t much in length, but his cock is thick. Fat and stocky, so different than John imagined. 

(But so much better. He can already feel Peter’s cock inside him, splitting him open.) 

The fantasy has him biting his lip, and his voice is huskier when he says, “Give me your hand.” 

John takes his time getting Peter’s hand wet, sucking each finger into mouth, laving at the digits with his tongue and flicking it against his palm. 

“Touch your cock.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://halereyes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
